Ice-cream Tuesdays
by bursts-of-vibration
Summary: It was a Tuesday and you were five.


_A/N- If you're going to throw anything I'd like to request it be cake...or donuts. Preferably donuts. Enjoy._

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You fell in love with her on a Tuesday when you were five; you know it was a Tuesday because they were ice-cream day. Your mom would pick you up straight after dance class at 4:25pm on the dot and the two of you would walk hand in hand down the street to Mr Snowman's; your favourite ice-cream shop.

Your mom always waited patiently while you squished your face against the glass, giddy at the thought of so many choices and flavour combinations. Her smile never faltered even though you always ended up picking the same thing every time; vanilla smothered with warm strawberry sauce, rainbow sprinkles and a cherry on top.

You were sat in your usual booth, smack bang right in the middle of the store; the one with the cracked leather in the grooves from years of use.

Mr Patrick was standing behind the counter talking to Mrs Davis while Hanna-a mean girl from school who hid your crayons and called you stupid when you talked about unicorns-shoveled poop coloured ice-cream into her rude mouth like she was scared it would run away like you knew it would if it had legs.

Other than hungry Hanna, her mom, my mom, Mr Patrick, a couple of weird looking teenagers drinking milkshakes in the back corner booth and me, the shop was empty. Probably because it was Winter…I think it was winter, anyway. Seasons confused me.

You've gotten much better at them, though.

You liked the booth you were sitting in. It faced the window looking out into the street which meant you could watch all the people walk by; rugged up in their fluffy winter jackets, warm beanies and colourful scarves. You especially liked it when they were walking their pets. You adored animals; they were like your friends. Friends that never called you names or make fun of your clothes.

Your focus was more on making each mouthful equal, scooping up even amounts of vanilla, strawberry, and sprinkle to have any kind of meaningful discussion with your mom; you give the occasional nod yes or shake no when she asked about dance class but other than that, the two of you mostly sat in comfortable silence.

The cherry was always the last thing you ate. For you, it was the best part of eating ice-cream.

You liked the way the juice would colour your tongue and lips with a light red gloss. Your mom said you were too young to wear lipstick, so you had to get creative.

You were twirling the stem between your fingers, watching the cherry spin back and forth when you saw her standing alone on the sidewalk right outside the big shop window; dressed in light denim overalls with a white turtle neck underneath and black puffy jacket on top, a red headband on top of her head holding her dark hair out of her face.

It didn't take long for you to figure out that she was lost. She looked around your age, maybe a year younger because of how short she was. Her head kept moving left then right then left again. She kept bringing her arm up to her face and wiping at it roughly with the back of her hand.

She looked just like you did when you didn't listen to your mom that one time when she told you not to wonder off while she stood at the register and paid for your new ballet shoes. Those were the scariest five minutes of your life; frightened and alone in the middle of the mall trying desperately not to cry while searching blurry eyed for your mom.

You didn't get ice-cream that Tuesday.

You remember how scared you felt. How absolutely distraught you were at the thought of never seeing your family or friends or Lord Tubbington again.

You didn't want her to feel like you did. She looked too pretty.

You heard your mom call out to you when you silently got out of your side of the booth and made your way towards the door. She probably thought you were going to run into the street chasing after a cat you'd seen making it's way down the road. Again.

She caught you around the waist just as the bell atop of the door rang.

She was fast for an old person.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, "You know better than to walk off, slippery little sucker?"

You stopped wriggling and pointed to the sad girl with the pretty headband, "I'm going to make a new friend."

Your mom followed the path of your finger, letting go of your waist and taking you by the hand and leading you out to the sidewalk when she saw the your soon to be friend standing by herself.

Crouching down in front of the girl, your mom introduced herself, "Hello, sweetheart. I'm Mrs Pierce," she pointed to you "And that's my daughter, Brittany. What's you're name?"

"Santana." _Santana. Santana. Santana. Santana._ I liked the way her name tasted; like caramel.

"That's a very pretty name. Did you lose your Mom or Dad, Santana?" She was using the same voice that instantly calmed you down after crawling into bed with her after a really bad dream.

Santana nodded and dragged the sleeve of her jacket under her runny nose. It was gross but you didn't say anything, she already looked really upset.

Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red and her hair kinda reminded you of the birds nest you'd found last week at the park. Her brow was scrunched up and her lips were set in a deep frown. You'd think she was mean or angry if you didn't know that she just scared.

You really wanted to hug her.

So you did.

She went kinda stiff when your arms first wrapped around her. For a second you thought that maybe she'd turned into an ice person from standing out in the cold but before you could freak out, you felt her arms slowly circle around your waist.

She was_ (still is)_ a few inches shorter than you so you had to bend down a little to whisper in her ear, "It'll be okay. We're friends now so I'll take care of you. Promise."

You smiled when you felt her arms tighten around you.

Santana had stopped crying by the time you pull out of the hug but her eyes remained glassy and her frown was still upside down.

So you did the only thing other than hugging her to try and make her feel better; you held out your hand, palm up, and offered her your cherry. (It wouldn't be the last time you did.)

She smiled when she took it, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

After that, it didn't take long to find Santana's dad. He was kind of hard to miss. I think it was the jogging up and down the sidewalk calling out, "Santana." that gave him away.

While Mr Santana was hugging Santana, you made sure to remind your mom to get their phone number so you and Santana could hang out at each others house and play.

You focused your attention back to Santana after hearing your mom ask Santana's dad if it would be okay to organise a play date. You were way too old for play dates but you didn't want to say anything incase that meant you wouldn't get to see Santana again.

She was tucked into her dad's side, playing with the ring on his finger while our parents talked. She looked happy.

She looked happy which made you feel happy and in the moment, you promised to do anything to keep her from ever being sad again.

You couldn't wipe the grin from your face as you walked to the car after hugging Santana goodbye and parting with the promise of seeing her again from her dad.

The whole way home, the smile never left your face.

It was a Tuesday and you were five.


End file.
